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| You're Not Imagining This--I Did Finally Write! | | Date Created: Oct 03, 2006, 10:38 AM |
 So no good excuses as to why it's taken me so long to write again...
It has been a whirlwind of activity as usual with plenty of ups and downs. The biggest down had to have been last week when Will took the afternoon off from work and was justly rewarded for his decision to pick family time over more mercenary interests. We took the boys to Baskin Robbins. How could anything go wrong? Not only was the shop packed with good little children and happy parents, but there was even a set of adorable triplets quiet as mice licking their ice cream cones. We sat down at a booth with the boys' cups of ice cream. I tried to help feed John, but he screamed, "No! Do it myself!" So be it. James stuck his spoon into his scoop. I don't know if the texture was too creamy, the plastic spoon too pink, the ice cream too cold, the angle of his wrist to cup not the correct degree for optimum comfort. Whatever "it" was, one stab of the spoon and James exploded. And then he wouldn't scoot over and make room for John. And then John exploded. I may have mentioned before how loud John is. And sweet Georgie Porgie Pizza Pie doesn't like conflict. So he started to cry. Everyone else in the shop stared. Even the kids looked horrified. I felt like I was taking them in public for the first time, or like I was the kind of parent whose kids run all over me and are generally spoiled brats all of the time, or maybe if I'm lucky, I though, I look like a well-intentioned aunt or family friend who didn't know what she was getting into when she offered to take the kids for ice cream. But then that cover is sort of blown when you tell the guys we have to leave and they scream, "No, Momoe! No Momoe! No take me out!" Will and I were paralyzed. Yes this has happened to me by myself at Wal-Mart and places like that, but Baskin Robbins is a very small box and as I said before, at least on this day, filled to the brim with a disturbing foil to our little situation--good little boys and girls and happy parents. We were a huge disturbance, a huge case for spankings or tar and featherings, a boon to the parents who could look at their good little boys and girls and say, You really are good little boys and girls. I'm so glad you're not like those crazy people. Anyway, of course in these situations James' and Johns' legs don't work. So Will and I dragged them by their wrists, their sockets straining I'm sure. Will had two cups of ice cream in his hands and John's wrists and I had one cup and James' wrists and somehow we got past the trash can and couldn't go back so there was no letting go of the cups because that would mean letting go of James and him collapsing on the floor instead of at least the dragging that meant a little closer to the car where we could tell the boys what we really really wanted to say to them. And it was about 95 degress outside so the ice cream actually felt refreshing running down our arms in chocolate rivulets. All we could do to get to the car was leave George and come back for him. James and John were screaming so loud we tried to explain it to him but of course he couldn't hear us. The lady with triplets said kindly, "Mine are five. It will get better." I smiled and said thank you and said louder so everyone could hear, "I'm sorry!" and we were out and the triplet lady comforted George for a second until I could come back for him. Of course the good little boy is the one who gets abandoned. The look of horror on his face as he pressed it into the glass pane of the door was heartbreaking. We aren't leaving you, I tried to telepathically message to him. And as a matter of fact if we ever leave anyone it will James and John, so you're safe, little buddy! Somehow we managed to get everyone in the car. Another parent outside asked if he could help and I honestly would have accepted his offer if I'd known what directions to give him. But it's one of those situations you just can't verbalize or explain or make a plan for. Your body almost takes over and just drags whatever and whomever is in your arms to the car. What a nightmare. Only James could get pissed off over ice cream...
This is not to say James has been terrible all the time lately. He has been good here and there. And when he is being good he says, "Am I being good, Momoe?" to make sure you're paying attention. And I try to shower him with affection when he's good--even though I told him I don't need the little reminders and they usually come about five minutes after being not so good. I don't want him to get more attention for being bad than he gets being good. But, good lord almighty, James needs two parents, a teacher, a babysitter, and two sets of grandparents all for himself. There's not enough of me to go around for him. I'm also really sad right now because swimming was James' first great love and our special time together was when I took him to lessons. The last few times, though, he has been increasingly fussy and even regressed on some skills he'd been doing for several weeks. This past week he refused to get into the pool. "How can a three-year-old child refuse? Throw him in," some of you more sink-or-swim types may wonder. And believe me when I say I'm not averse to your theory. But he screamed, he flailed, he kicked, he whined. Watching him sink or swim was no fun for me or the instructor. I tried everything. I told him he wouldn't get to watch the new movie we'd gotten. Nothing. I told him I'd call Boop (my dad) and tell him. This one always works. "Call Boop," he said. I told him he would go into time-out until Daddy got home from work and I'd take every book and every toy out of his room. "Take me home," he said. So no more swimming. I did take every toy, every block, every car, every book. Even the ones so high on his bookshelf he couldn't reach. I even took his train table. He sat on his bed and didn't fuss once. A big screw-you look on his face. The only time he got upset was when I closed the door and he realized how bored he would be with nothing to do. But he only did that for maybe 10 seconds. My big punishment was a huge flop. But at least I followed through on my threat. I think he truly weighed the consequences. Really thought in that huge head of his (75th percentile on head circumference/10th percentile on weight) that okay. It was worth a day without toys to get out of swimming. I'll take it. And the rest of us must take it, too. James, one day you will read this, and not believe it. But know that I love you and adore you. But son, you have got to get a handle on things. Ice cream is good! Swimming is fun! Embrace the good stuff in life. You have no idea how sweet it really is...
Speaking of his huge head, I'm a little worried he may become a lawyer. Not that that's a bad thing, but I know I used to want to be a lawyer and I practiced my argumentative techniques on my father for about 15 years. The other day he brought up Santa Claus for some reason. He said, "Santa Claus has toys in his sack" Yes, we said. "He brings us the toys from the sack?" Yes. If you're good, we said. "We get a Christmas tree?" yes, we said. "Santa brings it to us?" Now I know this isn't some brilliant defense of anything or a jam-up solid case, but it's amazing how his little wheels are always turning. If Santa brings us toys that we have at Christmas and if at Christmas we have a tree, Santa must bring our tree. I don't know, maybe he'll be a computer programmer with all his if-then statements. I'm keeping my fingers crossed for a drum-major though. Marching may have replaced his love for swimming. And marching doesn't require lessons!
In smaller head-circumference episodes, John continues to be afraid of everything. I cut his fingernails today and afterwards he wouldn't touch anything. Then he thought it would help if he washed his hands, but when I held him over the sink he wouldn't lean over and wash them because he was afraid I would drop him! The other day he didn't want to go upstairs to get his baseball bat (the one he takes everywhere and sleeps with) because he said it was dark. We told him it wasn't--there were enough lights on. But he worked it out alright. Standing at the bottom of the stairs he actually flipped a switch that turned the lights OFF and said, "Now they're on! I can go upstairs!" What a head case! He has gotten better about taking a bath, but the fear flares up without warning. He hates getting the cup of water to wash his hair even though it doesn't get in his eyes. I brought out a wash cloth to cover his eyes and he agreed to that with some hesitation. But with his eyes covered he was much happier and in a sing-song voice not unlike Mary Poppins or Pollyanna, he exclaimed, "That's easy! That's fine!"
So, sweet George. Will and I wanted to do something for him because he gets little to no attention. And honestly, I think he likes it that way--to a point. He is my little sneaky monkey. A few weeks ago Will found puzzle pieces in a pot in the cabinet in the kitchen. And last week he found puzzle pieces under the rug in the den. I mean WAY under the rug, not around the edge by accident. He can be up in his room for a nap and the whole house vibrates with heavy things being dropped or dumped out or I don't know what. All coming from his room. I go upstairs and when I open the door he is lying on his bed propped up on his elbows reading a book quiet as a mouse. Last night he was sound asleep in his room and I went to check on him before I went to bed. I whispered in his ear, "You make me so..." and in his sleep his said back "very happy" and smiled with his eyes still closed. And then I sang the rest. "I'm so glad you," and he sang back, "came into your life." He is so adorable. I hate when parents brag about their children, but I think I complain about them enough to warrant one compliment. So anyway, to reward Georgie for being so sweet, I dropped him off at Will's office for the last hour and a half of work on Friday. And he loved it!!! Apparently he really embraced the cubicle lifestyle--having a rubberband war with Mr. David across the divider, flirting with Miss Laura after she gave him some candy, and running around the conference room. I love it when George and Will get to spend time together because George is sort of a Momoe's boy and really enjoys the company of women including the grandmothers and great-grandmothers. So I love it when he gets some Daddy time and he does, too.
As for me, I am LOVING the new house--at the detriment of everything else I should be doing. I never want to leave and go out and "do stuff." I really don't enjoy "doing stuff." And now I have the perfect place to not do stuff. I have my office for writing and emailing. I have the backyard for watching the boys play. I have several comfortable places to read a book. I have a coffeemaker. I am incredibly happy here. Right now I don't even have regular babysitting. The boys are in school MWF mornings and Will's mom takes them all day on Mondays which is an amazing help. I don't feel the same need to "get out of the house" like I did before. I talked to someone yesterday who talked about being in her car all the time, and not in a negative way at all. But I was thinking how glad I was not to be in the car all the time. Especially since it really smells really bad right now for any number of reasons. I've been reading a lot lately and been thinking a whole lot about a book I want to write and I've also been really loving tennis even though I got beaten by yet another old lady yesterday. And these things plus the boys are really want I want to focus on right now. And Will, too. This morning my mom took the boys for a few hours and I took a walk around the neighborhood. Far superior to the stinky car. Over the weekend we went to a wonderful wonderful party with friends and Sunday afternoon our dear friends had a neighborhood party for us to introduce us to the families in the neighborhood. Sometimes despite the evils such as ice cream and handwashing everything is really really good. |
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